


Subjects

by yeaka



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, M/M, Master/Servant, PWP, Rimming, Submission, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur walks in on something he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subjects

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.
> 
> A/N: This isn’t historically accurate or properly British. You’ve been warned.

As Arthur’s footsteps echo down the corridor, he wonders how he’ll have Merlin make this up to him. Merlin being late to his duties is nothing unusual by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating when it happens. Sometimes Arthur honestly has no idea why he keeps Merlin around. If he actually finds Merlin in the spare rooms, there’s going to be extra hell to pay. It was one thing when he thought Merlin was just skulking around Gaius’, but quite another to find that Merlin had left hours ago. If Merlin is shirking his duties to Arthur in favour of spending time with Gwaine again there’s going to be a Merlin-shaped hole through the Camelot gates.

The door at the end of the corridor is slightly ajar, and Arthur walks a bit slower as he approaches, employing all his hunting tactics. He wants to catch Merlin in the act, for the extra satisfaction when he reams his servant out. As Arthur slips around the wall, peering through the tiny crack, a hoarse gasp flutters past him.

Merlin, sure enough, is on the other side. What Arthur didn’t expect, however, was to find Merlin pulled up and straddling Gwaine’s lap, the two of them up against the headboard. Merlin’s hands are curled in Gwaine’s long hair, and Gwaine’s rough fingers are rubbing raunchily all over Merlin’s back. They’re making out fervently, and a stone drops into Arthur’s stomach.

Merlin looks utterly rapturous, his eyes closed as Gwaine tongues him like a dog, ravishing his mouth. Arthur can instantly tell whose fault this is, who started it. Gwaine is grinding up into Arthur’s servant and starting to roll up Merlin’s shirt at the back. When Gwaine slips his hand inside Merlin’s trousers, squeezing his ass through the fabric and making him _moan_ like animal in heat, it goes straight to Arthur’s cock. And stabs right at his chest. It’s an inexplicable, horrible feeling, and Arthur doesn’t know why he isn’t just bursting in and throwing them both in the dungeons. There’s a sick part of him that wants to see more—that wants to see the pale expanse of Merlin’s back—exposed, like Arthur should make it—not Gwaine...

But Gwaine is the one on the bed with Merlin, and Gwaine is the one playing with Merlin’s ass, and devouring Merlin’s mouth, and making Merlin writhe like a wanton floozy. Arthur doesn’t know whom he more wants to murder. His trousers are getting tighter.

When Gwaine parts their lips, Merlin has the gall to mewl like it’s a loss. Gwaine kisses Merlin’s cheek, and Merlin’s jaw, and his chin, whilst purring, “You’re so hot, Merlin...”

Merlin turns a faint pink, and he looks so innocently erotic that Arthur wants to kick the door down. He’s never made Merlin blush like that.... Granted, if he’d known what it looked like, he might’ve.... Merlin mumbles breathlessly, “Gwaine—”

But Gwaine cuts him off, hissing, “I want to fuck you so bad...” He growls like a beast as he holds Merlin’s ass impossibly close, crushing their bother together, “Want to make you mine...”

Merlin groans, “Gwaine,” again, just softly, like he’s never heard anything sexier.

Arthur’s had enough. Merlin certainly doesn’t belong to Gwaine. He’s Arthur’s servant and Arthur’s friend and just generally _Arthur’s_ , and he was Arthur’s long before Gwaine came along. Arthur slams the door open with far more force than he really means to. Both men jump and look around at him, and he stalks towards them, while the door swings back shut in the background, having bounced off the wall hard enough to leave a mark. Merlin looks completely in shock. His mouths falls open, like he wants to explain.

Gwaine, on the other hand, gets over the surprise rather quickly, and doesn’t at all relinquish his hold. If anything, he holds Merlin tighter as Arthur storms over to the foot of the bed. He opens his mouth too, but Arthur cuts him off with an angry, “Merlin, you were supposed to be in _my_ quarters an _hour_ ago.”

The colour drains from Merlin’s face. He stutters, “O-oh, sorry, I just—”

“Just?” Arthur repeats, not at all making it easy for him. “Just what? Had to finish your second job first, you little tramp?” Arthur turns a bit pink himself immediately after saying it, but he only half regrets it. He snaps at Merlin all the time—Merlin does that to him. Hurt flickers across Merlin’s eyes, and Arthur just keeps glaring.

“Hey,” Gwaine cuts in, even though no one’s talking to him. “That isn’t fair—”

Arthur swivels around and practically shouts, “Get your hands off my servant!”

“Why?” Gwaine has the nerve to retort, defiant. “Just because he works for you sometimes doesn’t mean you can control who he kisses!”

Arthur never likes to be told what he can and can’t have. Because he’s Uther Pendragon’s son, and he _can_ have anything he wants. And, “Merlin’s mine,” he hisses. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m the prince of Camelot. Technically, I own both of you.”

Gwaine gives him an incredulous look, scrunching up his eyebrows and making a face. Merlin tries to remedy this by wriggling out of Gwaine’s grasp, but Gwaine won’t let him and only holds him tighter. “That’s absurd. You _don’t_ own him, and you certainly don’t own me.”

Merlin practically whimpers, “Gwaine, please—”

“Shut up, Merlin!” Arthur doesn’t even look over as he shouts it, because he’s so busy drilling holes into Gwaine’s skull. “I own both of you, and if you don’t agree we can always bring my guards in here to make you.” Gwaine looks like he’s about to say he can take those guards on, but Arthur adds, “Or my knights, or worse, I can go to my father, and have you jailed or burned for this.” (A part of Arthur is embarrassed for relying on his power like that, but another part recognizes that it’s necessary to get what he wants. Mostly he’s just enraged and feeling vindictive, even if he knows he’ll regret it later.)

“Arthur!” Merlin starts, but Gwaine, just like Arthur talks over him.

“See, this is why Merlin likes me more than you—you’re just like every other nobleman—arrogant and cruel. I get why you’re jealous, but it’s your own fault you can’t make him feel like I do.” Both Merlin and Arthur start at this, and the way Merlin clings to Gwaine doesn’t at all make Arthur feel any better.

His voice lowers both a decibel and an octave as he growls, “I certainly could, and he does not like you better. You’re just some peasant we picked up in a bar and apparently Merlin’s got low enough self-worth to settle for.” Arthur glares at Merlin while he says it, which has the exact opposite effect from what Arthur wants; Merlin shrinks back into Gwaine, who holds him protectively. Feeling like his stomach’s going to drop out of his body, Arthur crawls forward onto the bed and forcibly tries to pull Merlin away, which earns him a yelp and a wealth of protests. Turning back to Gwaine, Arthur snarls, “For your information, I could not only have both of you, I could make your toes curl.” Gwaine’s grip loosens momentarily in surprise, and Arthur wrenches Merlin’s small body into him. Merlin stumbles into Arthur’s lap, although it isn’t far. Gwaine’s knees are hitting Arthur’s, and Arthur holds Merlin tight.

Merlin seems too petrified to struggle and looks helplessly between them. Although, he should know by now that once Arthur’s started a fight, there is no backing down. Gwaine meets Arthur’s challenging expression, and after a moment he sniffs, and looks like he’s considering something. Then he says, slowly, “I’d like to see you try.”

Arthur doesn’t answer to petty, treasonous commoners. (Which is what Gwaine is, even if he did come to Arthur’s aid, now that he’s an evident threat to something Arthur apparently wants.) But when Merlin whimpers, “Gwaine—” it drives Arthur mad, and changes that. It should be _his_ name on Merlin’s lips, and Arthur grabs Merlin’s chin and forces it around. Merlin squeaks, and his hands fly to Arthur’s chest, but he doesn’t push back in time to stop Arthur’s lips hitting his. Arthur crashes their mouths together and slips his hand around to the back of Merlin’s head, fisting in the dark locks and holding it in place.

Arthur isn’t at all a stranger to kissing, unlike Merlin, obviously. He’s a prince, and a handsome one, at that, and he knows just what he’s doing. He pushes his tongue insistently against Merlin’s lips and tugs at Merlin’s hair when Merlin doesn’t obey fast enough. Merlin gasps, and that lets Arthur plunge his tongue inside. He kisses Merlin almost violently, exploring his mouth and sucking on his tongue, tracing his walls and the lines of his teeth, and nipping at his bottom lip. Merlin whimpers and takes it, and his fingers curl lightly in Arthur’s crimson shirt. Merlin’s unsure and clumsy, and Arthur’s ferocious and intense. He works his mouth against Merlin’s, taking in the feel of Merlin’s chest against his, Merlin’s thighs across his lap, Merlin’s clothed crotch against his, until it’s all too much. Arthur parts them to breathe minutes later, and Merlin gasps and struggles for air.

Arthur hugs Merlin closer, so that Merlin’s chin has to hook over his shoulder, and Arthur smirks at Gwaine. Gwaine’s pupils are dilated, and his mouth is slightly open. Arthur raises an eyebrow, now the challenger, and says, “Your turn.”

Gwaine grunts when Arthur grabs a fistful of his silken brown hair and yanks him forward. He tumbles into Arthur, grey-covered chest colliding with Arthur’s, and Arthur is even rougher than he was with Merlin. Whatever trust Gwaine earned by coming to his aid in the bar has long since dissipated. He smashes their mouths together hard enough to bruise and shoves his tongue right into Gwaine’s mouth. Gwaine doesn’t taste sweet like Merlin, and he doesn’t melt into it. He struggles for dominance, his tongue fighting Arthur’s. Arthur isn’t in the mood for that and goes just as strong. When he’s done, Arthur shoves Gwaine back down into the small mattress, and Gwaine, panting and looking hungrily at Arthur, lets himself fall. He lifts back up on his elbows but waits there.

Arthur, just as heavily, stares back. He orders without looking over, “Merlin, undress him.”

“What? Arthur—” Merlin splutters, as annoying and disobedient as ever.

Arthur doesn’t want to hear it and snaps, “Do it!”

When he glances at Merlin, Merlin hesitates before searching Gwaine’s face. Gwaine looks just as intense and serious as Arthur. After a minute, he sits up a little, slowly, and Merlin sighs in frustration, reaching over to peel Gwaine’s shirt over his head. When it’s off, Merlin drops it to the floor, as careless as he is with Arthur’s clothes, and sits back like he’s done. Gwaine lounges in the sheets, and Arthur says, “All of it.” When Gwaine reaches for the hem of his own trousers, Arthur snaps, “I said for Merlin to do it.” Gwaine rolls his eyes, but his hands still.

Merlin, blushing furiously, crawls around Arthur, and reaches hesitantly for Gwaine’s waistband. His fingers practically shake as he touches the fabric, hardly moving. Gwaine’s lips twist into a bit of a smile, and he mumbles, “It’s okay, Merlin. You were gonna see it anyway.” He glances back at Arthur, looking, of all the ridiculous things, smug.

Taking a breath, Merlin starts to peel down the fabric. As soon as it’s tugged from his thighs, Gwaine’s cock springs out of its confines, jutting proudly upwards, already half-hard. Merlin freezes for a moment before continuing down Gwaine’s legs. At the end of the bed, he tosses the trousers over the edge, leaving Gwaine spread out and gloriously naked for both of them to ogle. Arthur has to admit, he isn’t bad looking. His hard chest is completely chiseled, dusted with the lines of muscles. His body’s nicely slender but toned, and the thick mat of curls between his legs matches the chestnut waves that spill over the pillow. His silver necklace rests against his defined collarbone, and he casually lifts his arms back, slipping his hands along the sheets. He looks good, and it’s clear that he knows it.

Arthur can hear Merlin gulp beside him. He turns his head around and demands, “Strip.”

“What?” Merlin’s shoulders hike defensively.

To Arthur’s surprise, Gwaine purrs, “You heard him.”

Arthur glares warningly at Gwaine but repeats to Merlin, “Strip. Your. Clothes. Off. _Now._ ” He does it in that halting way he delivers messages when he really means business. Merlin’s ears are pink, but he slowly reaches for his neckerchief. His brown jacket goes just as slowly, but his hands really start to tremble as they reach for his shirt. Arthur can see in him it isn’t fear but nerves, and after a deep breath, he seems to build himself up enough to do it right.

And that, Merlin’s fair participation more than anything, makes Arthur hard as hell. But he’s trying to pretend this is about Merlin desperately needing to be taught a lesson. So Arthur just keeps scowling at him, until he pulls his blue shirt over his head. As soon as it’s off, he looks ashamed again, and he covers his chest lamely, as he adds his own shirt to the growing pile of discarded garments. It’s true that he isn’t nearly as well-built as either Gwaine or Arthur, but his pale, lithe body looks just as delicious to Arthur’s eager eyes. There’s something about the gentle curve of his hips and the thinness of his waist that make Arthur’s mouth water. Arthur wants to lick his delicate neck and bite his frail shoulders. Arthur wants to shove Merlin to the floor and fuck him into the stone; at some point, Arthur will. (This is changing everything, but there’s no time to think about that when Arthur’s head is fogged with sex.)

For now, he just barks, “Merlin,” to make the undressing process go faster. Merlin is biting his lip adorably as he plays with his own waistband, and he actually has the nerve to look at Gwaine for reassurance. Gwaine reaches a hand out and rubs Merlin’s thigh soothingly, until Arthur bats it away. He shoots a quick warning glare at Gwaine, before turning back to see Merlin discard his last item of clothing.

Merlin’s cock is smaller than Gwaine’s and smaller than Arthur’s, but still a respectable size. It’s slightly curved, a little less hard, but certainly not limp. It’s pink at the end, and as much as Merlin tries to cover himself up, Arthur sees everything. Arthur doesn’t bother to pretend he isn’t staring. It’s too late now. He’s come too far to ever go back. He _owns_ Merlin, body and soul, and he’s only evaluating his own possession. Merlin squirms under the gaze, until Arthur continues, “Now me.”

For some odd reason, this makes Merlin look the most embarrassed of all. Arthur can’t fathom why, as Merlin undresses him all the time. Albeit, he’s never done it while he himself was naked, but it still isn’t that much of a stretch. ...Although, they haven’t done anything with this intent, either, and Arthur is now really starting to wonder why.... He’d never admit to Merlin he was too dim to notice something, but even he has to admit he’s overlooked a very large and enjoyable possibility. Perhaps it’s just his jealousy or his possessiveness acting up, but now that sharing Merlin with someone else is a possibility, Arthur wants to make sure it _never_ happens again.

Merlin can’t keep his hands still as he lifts up Arthur’s shirt, and Arthur holds up his arms to help. There’re nerves but no hesitation. He watches Merlin tremble, and watches Merlin blush, and watches Merlin watch him too hazily. Merlin won’t make eye contact, but he stares ravenously at every centimeter of Arthur’s skin that’s exposed. Then he looks away, too late for Arthur not to see it. It makes Arthur grow all the stiffer, as Merlin, gentler than the rest, puts down Arthur’s shirt. So this has always been a possibility, then, even without Arthur’s bit of temper. Well, it had to have been, if Merlin would make out with Gwaine so easily. Merlin clearly ogles Arthur’s exposed chest as he fiddles with Arthur’s drawstring, having trouble. Arthur makes a grunting sound in the back of his throat, and Merlin finally gets the knot undone. Merlin could probably stop at this point.

But he doesn’t. He splays his hands on either side of Arthur’s hips and slides the fabric down, palms pressed tightly to Arthur’s skin. His eyes almost close as he does it, and Arthur bites back a moan at the touch. He can’t look away from Merlin’s face, and when Arthur’s trousers are around his knees, cock pointing straight out at Merlin, Merlin’s eyes flicker up. He studies Arthur’s face, probably for permission to stop.

Arthur lunges at Merlin, open-mouthed and ready. Merlin squeaks into the kiss and is almost knocked backwards with the force. His hands tentatively wrap around to Arthur’s back and brush over his shoulder blades, making him shiver and kiss harder. Merlin kisses back, and Arthur pulls Merlin’s smaller body into his.

He hates parting. But he does, just to get the rest of his trousers off, so that all three of them are naked on the bed. Arthur doesn’t let go of the back of Merlin’s head and keeps a firm grip in that dark hair as he glares down at Gwaine, who’s happily eyeing both of them. For a moment, Arthur wonders what he’ll do, and he strokes Merlin’s skull while he thinks. He’s going to need lube, or something, for this. He’s had girls before, back there, but never a man. He never really thought he’d take a man. But why not, really? He’s the son of Uther Pendragon, and he can fuck whomever he likes, and it’d be ridiculous to come this far and stop. He needs some sort of liquid. Merlin, obviously, won’t know anything. Merlin’s probably a virgin—Arthur can’t imagine him actually bagging anyone, despite Gwaine’s evident playboy nature. That’s Gwaine’s malfunction, though. He’d probably fuck anything with two legs. ...And maybe he was only using Merlin to get to Arthur, because Arthur really is the better catch. Arthur dons a confident smirk as he thinks this, and Gwaine raises a questioning eyebrow.

Arthur’s about to move, when he instead barks, “Come here.”

To his surprise, Gwaine sits up in bed and moves closer, murmuring, “Yes, your majesty.”

Arthur doesn’t care to figure out right now if that’s sarcasm. As soon as Gwaine’s within range, Arthur reaches out and grabs a fistful of his hair—which is turning out to be a rather helpful handhold—and jerks his head down. “Get me wet,” Arthur orders, and he watches Merlin squirm as he does it.

He’s just as surprised when Gwaine obeys without hesitation. One minute Arthur’s staring into Merlin’s dark, half-lidded eyes, and the next he’s gasping as a tight, wet heat surrounds the head of his cock. Arthur just barely manages to restrain himself from bucking forward—he doesn’t want to startle Gwaine and get bitten. But it’s absolutely amazing. Gwaine opens wide and pushes down bit-by-bit, tongue pressed against the underside and teeth scraping lightly at the top. Gwaine starts vigorously bobbing up and down Arthur’s dick without being told, and Arthur can’t help it. He glances down, watching the way those pink, wet lips stretch around his thick shaft. Gwaine’s definitely done this before. The pleasure makes Arthur hard as a rock, and when he looks back to Merlin, he muses, “Jealous?”

Merlin pouts, in a disapproving look that clearly says, ‘yes.’ Arthur isn’t sure which of them he’s jealous of, but he imagines Gwaine. It’s an honour to get to suck a royal cock, after all. Gwaine’s lucky, and it’s probably eating Merlin up. Merlin’s Arthur’s servant, after all. Merlin’s the one that should be attending to his needs. When Gwaine pulls off against Arthur’s wishes, he immediately starts to lap at the base, coating Arthur’s dick in saliva. It twitches happily in Gwaine’s mouth at each lick, and Gwaine messily kisses it all over. Arthur has to pull Gwaine back from that too, because otherwise he’d come all over Gwaine’s face, right then and there.

And he wants to come inside Merlin. With one hand in Gwaine’s hair and one in Merlin’s, Arthur turns Merlin around. It’s awkward, but Arthur doesn’t let go. Merlin has to bend back slightly to not tug his hair out, and Arthur enjoys the way his pale spine curves with the effort. “Hold your cheeks apart, Merlin.” Tensing, Merlin’s slow to slip his hands down his body, grabbing fistfuls of ass. Arthur can’t stop staring. He moves Gwaine’s head, without looking, to Merlin’s ass, and demands, “Get him ready.”

Gwaine, once again, looks up at him, in a way that makes Arthur sort of sick. Gwaine’s clearly enjoy Arthur’s debauchery. But now that he’s started, he just can’t stop. His body and mind keep going, and he shifts in his seat when Gwaine listens. He wants a good view.

Gwaine stretches Merlin’s ass cheeks apart farther, larger hands atop Merlin’s, and swipes a long, wet lick from between Merlin’s legs to the small of that pale back. Then he runs down again, mouth wide and tongue out as far as it’ll go, swiping at Merlin’s crack. Merlin whimpers and tries to slump forward, but Arthur won’t let him. Arthur keeps him firmly in place. Gwaine takes a bit to find the right spot—probably on purpose—and then he begins to circle Merlin’s small, furrowed hole. Seeing it for the first time, Arthur has a twinge of uncertainty. ...He does want to show Merlin a lesson, and he very much wants to fuck Merlin, but it really doesn’t look like he’ll fit. Arthur’s transfixed as Gwaine starts to lap at the puckered entrance, trying to coax it open. When Merlin almost inaudibly breathes, “ _Gwaine_ ,” all of Arthur’s resolution comes rushing back.

Arthur reaches back and slaps Gwaine’s ass, non-verbally telling him to go faster. It’s taking every bone in Arthur’s body to not start touching himself. He wants to last. Gwaine starts pressing the tip of his tongue into Merlin’s hole, and Arthur sucks in a breath when it enters. Merlin arches erotically, letting out a wild moan. Gwaine pistons his tongue in and out, stretching it just a little wider every time, until it starts to dribble with Gwaine’s saliva. As soon as Arthur thinks it’s enough, he grabs Gwaine and shoves him back again, gruffly hissing, “Lie down.”

Gwaine licks his lips as he falls back into the mattress, moving back to the pillows again. He looks like a horny predator, and Arthur hesitates, not liking it. Without looking away, he mumbles aloud, “Merlin... get your neckerchief. ...Tie Gwaine’s wrists to the bed frame.” Gwaine quirks an eyebrow, and Arthur’s really starting to hate that (albeit sexy) smirk.

Merlin scrambles to obey this time and dips off the bed to pick up the discarded scarf, before climbing over Gwaine’s chest to tie him back. He mumbles, “Sorry, sorry,” as he does it, but Gwaine just helpfully holds his arms in place. Gwaine whispers something to Merlin that’s probably along the lines of, ‘it’s okay,’ but still bothers Arthur tremendously.

As soon as Merlin’s done, Arthur shoves him down, and Merlin ‘oof’s against Gwaine’s chest. Deciding that isn’t right, Arthur flips Merlin around, onto his back, too easily. Merlin weighs less than the armour Arthur wears for practice. Arthur almost feels bad as he drapes himself over Merlin’s naked body, but then he sees the lust-filled look in Merlin’s eyes, and stops.

Arthur adjusts himself as he leans forward to kiss Merlin, aligning their bodies perfectly atop Gwaine’s. He can hear Gwaine breathing heavily below but doesn’t care. Arthur pulls Merlin’s legs open beneath him, one on either side, and doesn’t break the kiss as he bends them back, guiding Merlin to straddle his waist. Merlin, for once, is a good servant. He goes where Arthur puts him. His hands slide to Arthur’s shoulders. He looks sort of like he doesn’t believe this is real, and Arthur looks firmly back at him, mostly so Merlin doesn’t have to go to Gwaine for reassurance. It’s just the two of them. And they’ll crush Gwaine with that concept.

Arthur is far too excited for this. When he gets his hand between their bodies, he means to finger Merlin slowly. But instead he shoves his finger deep inside as soon as he finds Merlin’s hole, and Merlin gasps again, fingers flexing in Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur feels around, going farther than he should, faster than he should. Gwaine loosened Merlin up, but not enough. It’ll have to be enough. Arthur’s cock is still wet, and all three of their bodies are alight with the beginnings of sweat. Arthur slides in another finger and starts to scissor Merlin apart none too gently. Merlin struggles to stay still beneath him, and Gwaine kisses the side of Merlin’s face. If he could, Gwaine would probably be wrapping his arms around Merlin. Arthur smirks to himself, glad he thought of the binding. Arthur knows Merlin’s ready when he mumbles, “Ar... Arthur...”

His fingers can’t come out fast enough. Arthur’s already near the edge when he lines himself up, and he’s torn between draping over Merlin’s small body and staying back so he can watch every bit of it. Arthur stares at the way his head presses against Merlin’s wet, puckered hole. He honestly doesn’t know why he bothered with women before. This is clearly the hottest sight there is, next to Merlin’s flushed, gasping face. Arthur makes sure he’s still in place as he bends down over Merlin, touching everywhere he can. He wants skin on skin at every centimeter and gets it.

It’s hard to keep his eyes open. But Arthur makes sure he makes eye contact with Merlin before he slams brutally inside, making Merlin scream and buck into him. Merlin’s fingers claw at Arthur’s shoulder blades, and Arthur’s teeth grit together. His thick cock thrusts up inside Merlin’s tight, hot channel, and it’s easily the best thing he’s ever felt. Merlin is holding him desperately, heels dug into the small of his back, thighs tense and quivering. Arthur sinks all the way in, every glorious bit. Merlin’s hungry walls seem to squeeze at him, trying to suck him in further. He goes balls-deep in one the thrust and then has to stop to breathe.

He glances at Gwaine over Merlin’s shoulder, and hisses possessively in Merlin’s ear, _“You’re mine.”_

Merlin shivers, and Arthur can feel him nod, and Arthur kisses the side of his cheek. Arthur tries to pull out, and finds himself slamming back in too fast. It’s too tight; he doesn’t want to leave. He wills himself to pick up a pace, going out almost all the way and sliding in fully. He starts fucking Merlin wildly and pounds Merlin’s perfect ass down into Gwaine. Merlin makes mewling noises and gasps and tries to pant Arthur’s name, and holds Arthur so tight that Arthur thinks he might have bruises tomorrow. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. He’s a knight; he can handle scratches. And besides, he’s going to mark Merlin much worse.

Arthur wants to mark Merlin all over, and he turns his head to kiss Merlin while they fuck. Merlin’s so dazed he can barely keep up, and mostly he just lies there with his mouth open, letting Arthur have everything he wants. Arthur bites Merlin’s lips gently and sucks on his tongue, traces his mouth and kisses him hard, grinding him down into Gwaine’s shoulder. Arthur can feel Merlin’s dick against his stomach, hard and dripping. He keeps his hands at Merlin’s hips though, holding him steady and right. Every thrust is harsher and harder than the last, enough to make Merlin topple over if Arthur weren’t holding him. But Arthur wants to touch more. He presses Merlin further down, pinning that thin body to Gwaine’s chest, so he can explore more thoroughly. He runs up and down Merlin’s sides, still there to catch him should he fall, but feeling more skin. Every bit of Merlin is smooth and warm, delicious and perfect. When it’s clear that if Merlin doesn’t get a break to breathe he’ll suffocate, Arthur lets go of his lips. Instead, Arthur contents himself with kissing all over Merlin’s face, nipping at his jaw and licking his strong cheekbones. Merlin moans the whole time, like he _adores_ it. Arthur doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help but whisper, “Take it, servant,” and it only makes Merlin whimper louder.

Gwaine moans below, and Arthur, feeling a sick rush of power, growls into Merlin’s ear, “Tell me who you belong to.” Gwaine’s face scrunches up, as though in disgust or pain, but he’s still obviously turned on—he’s got Merlin’s hot ass rubbing against his probably-hard dick. And Arthur, unlike Merlin, doesn’t have to choose, so while he waits for Merlin to answer, he leans over Merlin’s shoulder, and wipes the smirk off that handsome face with a kiss.

Gwaine startles, but opens his mouth and lets Arthur in, and fights him for control again. Arthur’s just as strong, and as their tongues dance, Merlin gasps, “Y-yours, A-Arthur—oh!” Arthur doesn’t stop his hips from moving once, and, if possible, fucks Merlin harder during this confession. It makes something stir in Arthur’s chest that he didn’t even know was there, and he takes the energy out on Gwaine, pillaging his mouth and grinding them both down. Merlin’s fingers slip into Arthur’s hair and play with his blond locks and tug, like he wants Arthur to come back to him.

When Arthur breaks away from Gwaine, he mutters, “You too,” and Gwaine, like a good subject, nods dizzily. The thought of him coming and spraying all over Merlin’s ass and back is what really tips Arthur over the edge. Arthur kisses Merlin’s mouth to stifle his scream as he bursts, exploding inside Merlin’s tight ass, and fucking it out the whole way. He pounds Merlin into oblivion and spasms everywhere. It keeps going and going, and he coats Merlin’s walls until he just can’t take it anymore.

Merlin finishes only a few seconds after, and his ass tightens and jerks deliciously against Arthur’s cock, milking out the last of his orgasm. Merlin’s hot cum paints their stomachs, and Arthur collapses into it, boneless. He’s never felt so drained in his life. Merlin groans beneath him, and Gwaine grunts.

Arthur doesn’t know if Gwaine came or not, but at the moment, he can’t bring himself to really care. Maybe he’ll have Merlin suck Gwaine off, he thinks, just so he can watch. Or maybe he’ll fuck Gwaine, and make Merlin watch. Or maybe, just maybe, if Gwaine is very well behaved, he’ll let Gwaine fuck Merlin next, while Arthur tries Merlin’s mouth. Possibilities are suddenly springing up in Arthur’s hazy mind like wildfire—every nasty thing in the world he can do to his little servant. Merlin, obviously, would let him, and Uther would never have to know. It’s just a bit of fun, anyway, no big deal.

So long as Merlin knows he’s never allowed to let anyone else fuck him without Arthur’s express permission, of course. That’s just a given.

Arthur stays inside Merlin as he sleepily examines Gwaine’s face over Merlin’s shoulder, and mumbles, “Now what to do with you...?”

Gwaine grins wickedly, clearly with a few ideas of his own.


End file.
